


Between The Files

by Nevanna



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships, Mind Manipulation, Missing Scene, Multi, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sharing a Body, Soul Bond, Unrequited Crush, Voyeurism, both in chapter 22, in chapter 13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: Missing scenes and possibilities, most of which were originally posted on Tumblr, and/or as responses to prompts.  Expect a lot of Jon/Martin angst and fluff, Elias being his gloriously manipulative self, and plenty of feelings about mind control.Latest installment: Martin, Jon, and reclamation at the end of the world.





	1. Martin, Jon, and questions of trust

“Jon?” Martin pauses at the door. “Just so you know, I didn’t think you were a murderer. Not really.”

Jon hasn’t looked up from his desk. “Much appreciated, Martin.” Each _t_ is sharp enough to stab. “But I didn’t ask.”

“You could, you know. Ask. And I’d say the same thing. Wouldn’t have a choice, would I?” Martin had worked out that much, even before their boss started dropping hints: _Our Archivist can be very_ persuasive, _can’t he_?

“Further research is required.” For a moment, Jon sounds wonderfully, painfully like his old self. “But I think we can both accept that your choice would be… compromised.”

“Research,” Martin repeats. “Well, we’ve investigated scarier things, haven’t we?”

“You could say that.” Jon finally raises his head. “Do you really think…” He hesitates.

Martin doesn’t need to wonder why. “Go on,” he says softly.

“Do you think that you can still trust me?”

“I can.” Now that he’s paying attention, Martin can recognize that warm, unwinding sensation in his head and chest as he lets the words fall from his mouth. “That is, I want to.”

All the sarcasm and irritation have drained from Jon’s voice, and only weariness remains. “Thank you.”


	2. Martin, Elias, and concerns of space

Martin has barely set down the two cups of tea when he hears a voice from the entrance to the Archives: “Getting an early start, are we?”

“G’morning.” He tries not to stutter over the words. “I thought you knew… I had a bit of an… infestation… in my flat.” He shuffles his feet to reassure himself that nothing blind and glistening is wriggling over them. “Jon’s letting me stay here until it’s sorted out.”

“Oh, I was quite aware of your situation,” Elias says smoothly. “I’m glad that our Archivist is keeping an eye out for you.”

Martin can’t keep the tiny smile from his face. “I don’t think he’d be too keen to hear it, but he’s a good man.” There are quite a few things that Jon would prefer not to hear about, and Martin’s imagined all of them as he lay awake in the dark: the two of them pressed together in that narrow bed, Jon’s spindly legs tangled with his thicker ones, as they whispered and kissed and touched everywhere they could reach…

Elias intrudes on his thoughts: “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“What? Oh, right.” Martin steadies himself with one hand on Jon’s desk, tries to breathe slowly, and prays that his body won’t decide to respond to those images. “So, you don’t have a problem? With my staying here, I mean.”

“Oh, Martin.” Somehow, Elias has drawn close enough to clap him on the shoulder. “Why would I want you to leave?”


	3. Elias, Jon, and on-the-job training

“You’re doing splendidly, Jon,” Elias murmurs as soon as his Archivist stops asking questions for a moment. “The more you understand your abilities, the more easily you’ll be able to control them, instead of…”

“I know!” Jon snaps, his scowl sharpening, as if the praise didn’t hit any sweet spots in his brain. “Don’t pretend that _you’re_ not getting anything out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“And what if I wanted you to feel something besides… _pleasure_?” Jon pours power into his next demand: “How would I do that?”

Elias lets the compulsion crash over him like a dizzying wave, not hiding the effort that it takes to catch his breath. “Digging for weak spots already, are we? And I didn’t even have to suggest it.” He seizes Jon by the elbow and leans toward him, lips brushing the curve of one ear with the whispered words. “I promise that I’ll show you _everything_ you need to know.”


	4. Elias, Martin, and an offer of instruction

“Everybody knows how loyal you are to Jon,” Elias remarks. “It would take a truly profound violation to shatter that loyalty, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Martin insists.

“Nor should you be… right now.” Elias closes a hand over Martin’s shoulder. “Still, everybody has parts of themselves that they’d rather hide, wouldn’t you agree?” He reaches for some of Martin’s more colorful fantasies, tugs them to the surface gently enough that they could have been summoned by his words alone. “He’s growing into his full potential, Martin. You all are, and as a manager, I couldn’t be prouder. However, you’re not yet equipped to resist the Archivist’s compulsion.” He leans closer. “Did you know that you could learn?”

Martin is still blushing, but his voice is steady as he retorts, “From you?” Has he ever spoken to _any_ of his superiors with such scorn?

“With my guidance, yes.” Elias entertains a brief fantasy of his own: Jon probing Martin with question after question, Martin calling upon his own mental resources to close himself off from the man he adores, both of them burning and pulsing with _knowledge_ while Elias watches. “Think about it.” But he doesn’t need the power of the Beholding to know that Martin is already doing exactly that.


	5. Jon, Martin, and experiments in surveillance and communication

Martin is falling asleep at his desk upstairs.

Jon knows this like he recognized when Basira was outside the door; like he knows the layout of the Archives when he closes his own eyes. How many abilities has he yet to discover? How long before he is able to _share_ knowledge, like Elias does, in addition to taking it?

_Never like Elias_, he tries to convince himself. It almost works.

If Jon can do such a thing, wouldn’t it be better to find out now? _Martin_, he thinks, and reaches for the same… energy, intention, whatever he calls upon in order to compel answers from his subjects. (Later, he can be frustrated about the absence of a precise label.) _Martin, I am here if you need me. Always._

Nothing seems to change. He wasn’t really expecting it to be this simple. “I hope you wake up before Lukas catches you,” he murmurs aloud, and opens his eyes.

Several stories above, Martin does the same. “Jon?”


	6. Martin, Peter, and an uninvited observer

Martin’s skin prickles uncontrollably, and he goes very still atop the desk. Peter stops brushing scratchy kisses along his throat long enough to ask, “Everything all right?”

“I think so.” Martin’s eyes dart to the corners of the office. “I keep feeling like we’re not…” At the last second, he stops himself from saying, “alone.”

Peter draws back and studies his face, then flicks his own gaze at the floor. “Seems like someone downstairs wants a show,” he says with a chuckle. “Oh, surely you’re not surprised that I know how it feels to be Beheld. I spent plenty of time with Elias, after all, and _your_ old friend doesn’t have nearly the same finesse.”

“You think Jon is _watching_ us?” Martin tries to pretend that he’s too horrified to be the slightest bit aroused by the notion.

Peter slips a hand beneath Martin’s half-buttoned shirt. “Would you mind if he were?”

The wrong answer might send him away, and leave Martin fogged with desire, _alone_ with his thoughts and worries and regrets. He clasps his hands around Peter’s neck and leans forward for another kiss. “Only if you do.”


	7. Melanie, Elias, and the eye of the storm

By the time Melanie opens the door to step outside, the rain is pouring from the sky in a steady sheet. She lingers beneath the overhang that crowns the entrance to the Institute, almost losing her balance at the next thunderclap.

“Miss King?” A familiar figure in a dark suit holds up his umbrella and motions her closer. “Allow me.”

“I’m all right, thanks.” She hasn’t seen or spoken to the head of the Institute since their first meeting, and never would have expected their next one to be so, well, _close_.

“I insist.” Elias Bouchard’s voice is calm and courteous, but firm. “At least until your ride gets here. Never let it be said that I don’t look after my staff.”

She edges under the umbrella, clutching her bag to her chest. “Thanks.”

“How are you finding your new position? Have you recorded any statements yet?”

The second question is a lot easier to answer than the first. “Just one, from the eighties. Some poor bast…” She corrects herself just in time. “Some poor fellow turned into dark ooze that ended up stalking his friend at night.” She finds herself shivering, and tells herself that it’s only because of the chill in the air. “At least, that’s what I’m supposed to think.” Elias didn’t offer a clue, during that first interview, about whether he believes in anything that this place studies.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “The dark may seem like a simple, childish fear, but it can be surprisingly effective… even devastating, for the unwary. I wonder if it would have been better if they could _see_ exactly what was coming for them?” 

The rain drives against the umbrella above them, and cars growl through the wet darkness beyond. She finds herself asking, “Would _you_ want to?”

“Of course.” His tone lightens. “Speaking of which, the approaching storm was a truly remarkable sight. I don’t envy you those windowless Archives.”

How long has her shoulder been pressed against his? Is she just imagining that pleasant whiff of his cologne? “Right now, I’d rather be watching it from my window at home.” When he doesn’t ask if she has someone waiting for her, she’s almost disappointed – then cross with herself for being disappointed – and reminds herself to keep her eyes trained on the blinking traffic signal on the corner, instead of on his face. He’s not bad looking, for an older guy, and more confident and distinguished than any supervisor she’s ever had, but he’s still…

“It would seem that you’re prepared to leave workplace concerns _at_ the workplace.” Is that a smile in Elias’ voice?

“Well, sure.” Melanie forces out a laugh. “Not that I’m not grateful for the job, and everything,” she adds quickly. And this job feels a little too much like her last chance, for her to follow any distracting thoughts about what her boss’s arm would feel like without so many layers of fabric between them.

“I’m looking forward to finding out how much you can offer,” Elias tells her. Lights slice through the rain, and another car turns the corner and slows as it approaches. “For now, do enjoy your evening.”

As Melanie dashes forward, she swears for a moment that she feels fingers trailing down her back. She looks over her shoulder only once, to see him raising a hand in farewell, and shivers again.


	8. Martin, alone with his uncertainties

The fog dissolves just enough for Martin to find himself alone in Peter’s office, but doesn’t disappear altogether. It swirls through his thoughts and fills his lungs with each gasping breath that he takes. He’s made those noises before, when he was running from monsters, or facing them down, or waking from the nightmares that they left in his head.

Had Jon felt this bewildering mixture of pride and terror when he realized what he could do? All too recently, Martin would have given anything to be able to look him in the eye and ask that question, even if he didn’t get an answer, but right now, he can’t even summon a fraction of his old longing for Jon’s attention.

Instead, it’s Peter’s shadow that Martin wants to see spilling across the floor; Peter’s strong, sure hands that he wants to feel on his shoulders; Peter’s voice that he needs to hear explain (_what am I becoming_?) and reassure (_was I right to vanish and leave Georgie on her own?_) and guide (_what happens next?_). And Martin knows that it will be for his own good – for everyone’s own good – if he keeps waiting, alone with the cold fog that fills him from the inside out.


	9. Elias, Jon, and different ways of Seeing

“The sooner you stop relying upon your physical eyes,” Elias says as he ties the blindfold in place, “the sooner you will learn to See beyond human understanding.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Jon snorts.

“If you believe nothing else that I tell you, trust that I want to help you understand what you are.” Elias runs his fingertips lightly down the back of Jon’s neck. “And that I’m the only one who can do so.” He can feel the exact moment when Jon starts to give in, but he still makes a point of asking, “Shall we continue?”


	10. Melanie, Jon, and the remnants of a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a bit of violent imagery and one F-bomb.

_She knows where this corridor leads, through the smells and the stains and the things moving behind the walls. Her feet keep moving._

_She knows what’s behind the door. Her hand reaches out to open it._

_She knows who the figure on the bed is, or used to be, and that it’s too late to save him, and she doesn’t. Want. To. See._

_But somehow she’s close enough to watch his eyes open in his ruined face, close enough for (what’s left of) his hand to grab her arm. The mouth opens, her father’s voice hisses her name, and as she cries out, hundreds of eyes open all around the room, all staring directly at…._

“Melanie?”

Her eyes snap open with another cry. Jon is standing over her chair, and the only eyes on her are his human ones, shadowed with exhaustion behind his glasses. Melanie quickly dislodges his hand from her arm, waits to catch her breath before asking, “Are you going to write me up for sleeping on the job?”

“Under the circumstances,” he says drily, “I think that my disciplinary practices need to be… re-evaluated.”

“Let me know what you decide.”

“I suppose I can’t exactly ask Elias for advice,” Jon mutters. She stiffens, and his breath catches. “Melanie, I am so sorry. None of us guessed that he was capable of…”

“It’s okay.” She tries for a shrug. “You know now. That’s what you do best, yeah?”

“It is most assuredly _not_ okay.” Something alert and angry flashes across his face, just for a moment. “If I could… make it go away.... then I would.”

“Don’t even try.” She might rip his eyes out if he did. “I’m not too keen on having more people fuck about in my head.” Does he know that Elias sat there, smiling, as she begged him to take back the secrets that he sent crawling and sliming through her consciousness? That she was sick in the loo nearest his office, that she went home afterward and took the hottest shower she could, that the inside of her head still feels itchy and moldy? If not, she certainly isn’t going to admit any of that aloud.

“That’s more than fair,” Jon agrees. “Tell me how…” He seems to reconsider his words. “Don’t be afraid to tell us what you need. How we can help.”

Nobody needs to compel the reply from Melanie’s lips; it forms on its own. “I need us to make him wish he was dead.” 

Jon reaches out – practically an inch at a time – to touch her shoulder, and this time, she lets him.


	11. Martin, Jon, and distractions in the workplace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this anonymous ask](https://forest-of-stories.tumblr.com/post/187192843443/jm-kiss-where-they-start-out-doing-something-else) on Tumblr.

They’ve been sorting through statements in comfortable silence, when Jon closes his folder and declares, “I need us to pause for a moment.”

“Of course,” Martin agrees. “What for?”

“For… well, for this.” Jon places a hand on the back of Martin’s neck and leans in, and Martin eagerly closes the remaining distance. He thinks briefly of the man who greeted him on the first day in this department, who would quietly implode at the idea of such activities occurring in his Archives; he wonders if he’s dreaming or caught in some sort of supernatural illusion, because each press of lips and tease of tongue is exactly as he’s imagined it during every quiet day and solitary night. And then Jon’s other hand caresses the small of Martin’s back, and he barely thinks or wonders anything at all…

…until he recognizes the slight hiss of static around them, imperceptible to someone who wouldn’t know it for what it is, and pulls back. “That’s not fair, is it?” he tries to joke.

Jon’s hands fall to his sides. “You’re right,” he says shortly. “It’s not. Forgive me.”

Did he just assume… well, of _course_ he assumed that Martin was angry. “Nothing to forgive,” he says.

“I wasn’t trying to pry; I just…”

“Knew that I was thinking about kissing you?” Martin finishes for him. “I think everybody else in the Archives knew that.”

“So much for omniscience, I suppose.”

“I don’t mind. I’m sorry if I sounded like I did. And you’re _not_ going to scare me off.” Martin cups Jon’s chin in one hand. “We’ll just have to practice until I know what you enjoy, too.”


	12. Elias and Tim, getting what they need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to fill an old kinkmeme prompt for Elias/Tim hatesex set after MAG 104.

“I hope you’re happy.” Tim’s voice drips with acid as he yanks up his trousers. He barely had time to lower them before his hands – especially his fingernails – were busy elsewhere.

“As a matter of fact, I’ve felt worse,” Elias agrees. It’s true enough, for all that his lips feel deliciously bruised, and there are bite marks on his shoulders and thighs to complement the scratches. Perhaps Tim wanted to know how much he could make Elias bleed. “Did you get what you needed?” 

“Like you’ve ever cared about anyone else’s needs,” Tim snarls. “Too busy sending us to die like good little acolytes, so the Stranger doesn’t win the game before your god has its turn.”

“You said it; I didn’t.” Elias shrugs. “But if I did want such a thing, I’m sure you’d find a way to stay alive, simply to spite me.”

“Well, fancy that.” Tim widens his eyes. “You must be psychic.”

“Were you keeping that line in reserve?”

“If you want to know what’s been on my mind, chew on this.” Tim sounds noticeably calmer. “Maybe you really didn’t know why I joined the Institute. But if you’d held back information about the Circus – about my brother – then I’d have killed you. I still would, and I don’t care what it could do to me.” He turns away, as if he thinks it will make the slightest difference. His remarkably carved shoulders are trembling.

Elias places his hand, very gently, between them. Everything is still proceeding exactly as it should.


	13. Melanie, Elias, and an unwanted visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to fill a kinkmeme prompt for Elias/Melanie noncon (**that's your warning, friends**).

Someone is stroking Melanie’s hair, the way her father used to do, and for just a moment, she loses herself in the comforting memory.

Then she opens her eyes to see Elias sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling down at her.

Melanie has kept a knife under her pillow for months, and knowing that it’s there has helped her to sleep a little bit better even if she’s never had to use it until tonight. She slashes and thrusts with all her strength, but he grabs her wrist and brushes his other hand across her forehead, and she falls back, gasping. She isn’t sure what happens to the knife.

“Get the fuck out of my house, you asshole,” she manages, once she’s blinked away the images. “Before I scream the building down.”

“If you try to stop me, I will fill your head with so much filth that you won’t remember your own name.” His voice is low and smooth. “I’m truly disappointed with you, Melanie. Not all of our little heart-to-hearts have to be so unpleasant. I could satisfy your fantasies as easily as I could your fears.” His weight shifts, and he kisses her temple. “I’m flattered to feature in so many of both.”

As his hands roam over her skin, Melanie thinks, _This is a nightmare, _you_ are a nightmare_, over and over.

“You can tell yourself that, if you like,” Elias whispers. “Perhaps, if you’re very good, it will turn out to be true.”


	14. Daisy, Basira, and last chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to fill a kinkmeme prompt for pre-Unknowing Daisy/Basira.

“Look at this cutesy shit.” Daisy nearly yanks the ruffled curtains from the windows as she closes them. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Bouchard put us here on purpose.”

“Truly the pinnacle of his evil ways,” Basira deadpans, settling down on the flowery bedspread. “I’d love to hear you yell at him for it.”

Those words, at least, distract Daisy from the pull to _hunt, chase, destroy,_ that’s been running through her blood for too long. “I can’t believe this is where we’re spending our…” She cuts herself off. Basira is already determined to fulfill the mission, even at the cost of her life, and hearing her partner say things like “our last night on earth” or “it’s better if I go out this way” will only dial up her resolve.

“It could be worse,” Basira points out.

“How? Clown paintings on the walls?”

“I was going to say that at least we’re together, but thanks for that image.”

Daisy joins her on the bed and pulls her close for a kiss. “Together,” she agrees, the word turning into a purr when Basira’s lips move to her neck. Maybe she can ignore where they are and what’s waiting for them, the promise of the chase, if she already has what she’s after.


	15. Two prisoners in the Web, and stolen moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to fill a kinkmeme prompt about Raymond Fielding's teenage wards from MAG 59 ("Recluse"), getting together despite all the mind control.

Some things were always easier at night. 

Dick Barrowdale waited until after midnight to flee the halfway house. He didn’t get very far, nor did he offer an explanation until he and Ronald were pressed together in his bed, long after lights-out. “Something about this house makes it hard to think,” he whispered. “Makes it hard to remember what we do every day, or know _why_… don’t you feel it, too?”

The words nudged at something in Ronald’s head, as if he’d just woken up and slowly realized that he was dreaming, no matter how real the dream might have felt. He wasn’t sure what he'd planned to say, but what fell from his mouth was, “I feel _safe_ here. I know Ray just wants to help us.”

Dick was silent for long enough that he might have fallen asleep. “Last time I tried to run away,” he said at last, “how’d you know where to find me?”

Ronald hesitated. “I felt like something was…”

“…pulling you to me?”

Those words had always been too soft and fragile to ever say aloud. Most words would have been. They had to make do with clumsy kisses and desperate fumbles in the dark, flashes of excitement (like the striking of stolen matches, Ronald thought much later), followed by the terror of how easily they could be caught. “Maybe, but is that so bad?” His friend didn’t answer. “I should get back to…”

“Yeah.” As he tiptoed back across the room, Ronald thought he heard Dick add, “I know it wasn’t your fault.”


	16. Martin, Jon, and tiny displays of affection

Martin slumps comfortably into the sofa cushions, combing his fingers through Jon’s hair. The screen flickers softly in front of them, the volume is on the low side, and is it too much to hope that Jon has finally fallen asleep?

Instead, he lifts his head from Martin’s thigh and starts dropping tiny kisses along the soft expanse of his exposed belly. Martin lets out a squeak and instinctively moves to tug down his shirt.

“I thought…” Jon sits up abruptly. “That is, if you don’t like that…”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean, I do like it.” Martin’s cheeks warm. “I just wasn’t expecting it.” He hasn’t thought much of Jon resting a hand or a cheek on his stomach before, but this is new.

“The unexpected is rather a recurring theme in our lives,” Jon points out, punctuating those words with one more kiss, and Martin thinks that if the Extinction caught up with them here and now, he would be content to face it.

But when Jon smiles against his skin, Martin is grateful that the end of the world has decided to wait.


	17. Martin, Jon, and a well-meant promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nelja, who asked for a Jon/Martin "I almost lost you" kiss.

“Should have known you’d be too stubborn to die on us.” Martin forced himself to really look at Jon’s still, bandaged form, at the wires and tubes and machines that surrounded his bed, at the screens that wavered and beeped out his brain activity. Maybe there were good dreams running through his head, but Martin couldn’t quite make himself hope. “I’ve got lots to tell you.” _The fire eating one statement after another… Elias reaching inside him and yanking at the fears and doubts that had haunted him since childhood…_ “I’m looking forward to hearing you call me a reckless idiot for some of it.” _Basira’s and Melanie’s faces as Peter Lukas offered his condolences…___

_ _Martin shook his head. “I’ll make sure we don’t lose anyone else,” he continued. “I know that’s what you’d want.” He leaned down and kissed Jon’s forehead. “I’ll be here waiting when you come back to us, okay?”_ _

_ _At the time, he truly believed that he would._ _


	18. Agnes, Gertrude, and a forbidden connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nelja, who asked for an Agnes/Gertrude "We can never be together" kiss.

“We need to have faith,” Arthur has said more than once. “If Agnes thinks that we should know more about her friend, she’ll tell us.”

_That’s not what she is,_ Agnes wants to protest. The brave, brilliant, blazingly cruel woman who appears in her dreams, who takes shape beneath her pencil, who’s had more adventures in the last few years than Agnes has had in her much longer life, will never be her _friend_. And she will certainly never be anything more.

Agnes holds up the latest drawing of her Gertrude, her anchor, who showed her so many worlds that are different to the one she’s been raised to desire. She gives the paper a silent kiss before she reduces it to ash.


	19. Sasha, Michael, and travel advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nelja, who asked for a Sasha/Michael "caught off guard" kiss.

“How much do you trust the Archivist?” Michael asks at the entrance to the tube station. It’s long after the usual rush of commuters would be on their way home.

“Trust him?” Sasha echoes. “To do what?” Jon might not be the friendliest boss in the world, but he’s always been fairly transparent about what he wants.

Michael’s laughter nearly makes her lose her balance and tumble down the steps. “To _not_ do, you should ask,” it corrects her. “Has he sent you on any little trips yet?”

“No…” Sasha thinks back. “We had to go off to trainings and seminars and the like, back when we worked in the research department. But those weren’t exactly his idea.”

“You all seem so sure of where your ideas come from,” Michael says, not exactly to her. “Next time, make sure that before you leave, you give all your loved ones a kiss goodbye.” It swoops toward her and presses its mouth against hers before whirling away, and she holds onto the railing and waits for disgust or terror that never come.


	20. Martin, Jon, and reasons to hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime after 154. For orchis, who asked for a Jon/Martin "one stops to ask 'are you sure?' / the other responds by kissing them more" scenario.

Jon breaks the kiss for long enough to whisper, “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted this.” He looks even scruffier and more weathered than the last time they saw each other – if that’s possible – and every bit as beautiful as the clean-cut researcher who first walked into the library years ago and made Martin drop a book on his own toes.

Martin leans in once more. Jon’s mouth is the warmest thing that he’s felt in a very long time. “Neither was I,” he admits as soon as he can breathe again, can speak again.

“Have you made your choice?”

“I don’t know if I still have one.” Martin bows his head. “I know that wasn’t the answer you wanted.”

Jon pulls him close, and maybe the feel of his rough cheeks and gentle lips, the lilt of his voice and that uniquely Jonathan Sims determination to _figure something out_, won’t be enough to pull Martin free from the Lonely for good, but in his arms, Martin is willing to let himself hope.


	21. Martin, Peter, and necessary numbness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to fill a kinkmeme prompt around Peter sexually coercing Martin.

Peter smiles as he refills both wineglasses. “To your progress,” he declares, raising his. “I’m beginning to understand how Elias must have felt as he watched your Archivist grow into his powers.”

“Could we please… not talk about Jon?” Martin asks. “Not here.”

“Oh, Martin.” Disappointment creeps into Peter’s voice. “We won’t have much success if mentions of your former life still bring up such a mess of emotions. You need to develop some distance.”

Later, as Peter pushes him onto the bed in a storm of scraping kisses and thrusting fingers, Martin finds it all too easy not to feel much of anything.


	22. Elias, Jon, and shared indulgences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saw a kinkmeme prompt that was simply, "Jon and Elias smoke weed" and decided to put my own spin on it.

Elias lets the smoke fill Jon’s lungs, and releases an unrestrained sigh of contentment. “Oh, hush,” he scolds mildly, as Jon gripes and frets in the back of their mind. “It’s not as if you don’t have your own share of vices.” He only has intermittent control over this body, but he’s made sure that his Archivist can’t blame any hunger for statements upon their current situation. “Compared to those, the occasional joint is quite harmless.”

_We’ll find a way to boot you out,_ Jon seethes. _Permanently_.

“Until then, why don’t you let yourself enjoy this?” Elias suggests. “I don’t know anyone who needs to relax more than you do.”


	23. Elias, Jon, and the value of grooming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a kinkmeme prompt that asked for Elias/Jon with hair-petting.

“You have such lovely hair,” says Elias (and, oh, how he loves the sound of that name in his Archivist’s voice, compliant or furious or desperately begging). He draws Jon’s head into his lap and combs his fingers through the dark strands, each stroke revealing patterns of gray in countless variations. “Rather more of it than when we met, it would seem.”

“Forgive me,” Jon mutters, “if I haven’t had much time for personal grooming between kidnappings and murder attempts.”

“I imagine that you turned quite a few heads when you had time for such things,” Elias agrees. “But I find you irresistible in all your forms. Would you like to know what I see when I look at you?” He etches the image slowly, with utmost care, into Jon’s mind, in all of its beauty and terror.

When Jon sees and understands, it takes him a very long time to stop trembling, and Elias keeps smoothing his hair even after he’s gone still.


	24. Martin, Elias, and uncertain comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to fill a kinkmeme prompt about Elias catching one of Team Archives during an emotional breakdown and showing "some amount of fondness and possessiveness with someone who belongs to beholding and him." It takes place in the immediate aftermath of MAG 95.

When Martin left his desk, he wasn’t planning to have hysterics in the break room. Maybe it was the horror of the statement he’d just read, or the idea of maintaining professionalism in the service of literal monsters, or all of the confusion and helplessness that he simply hadn’t let himself feel over the past few weeks, but he started gasping out what could have been laughter and could have been sobs, until he had to lean against the wall to avoid sinking to the floor.

“Martin, is everything all right?”

Coming from Elias, that question was at once so innocent and everything but, and it set off the tears in earnest. Large, warm hands closed around Martin’s shoulders and guided him to a chair, and he couldn’t help thinking about how often he’d wanted - needed - for Jon to touch him with the same confident gentleness, and to tell him, as Elias was telling him now, “You don’t have to explain.”

Of course he didn’t have to. Elias probably already knew what Martin was going to say, had likely witnessed his every yearning glance and every fumbling mistake and every horrifying nightmare, and almost certainly knew how profoundly he suddenly wished to be anywhere but in this room. “I just need a moment, and then I’ll be back to…” he began.

“I think that _I_ ought to decide when you return to work.” Elias was still speaking softly, but something in his tone left no room for argument. “Unless you want the rest of the archival staff to see you like this, I’d prefer it if you wait to resume your duties once you’ve gotten yourself under control.” He gave Martin’s shoulders a final squeeze and released them. “I’ll bring you a cloth so that you can clean your face, and I thought that perhaps you’d like someone else to brew you a cup of tea, for a change.” Amusement crept into his voice. “You can even watch me make it, if you want to be sure that I won’t poison it.”

Much later, when Martin tensed at the clasp of Jon’s hand on his shoulder, he wondered if there was anything that Elias _wasn’t_ capable of poisoning.


	25. Martin, Jon, Tim, and self-presentation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this pre-S1 scene as part of [a longer fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108296), realized that it didn't quite fit, and decided to share it here instead.

“I like your tie,” Martin blurts out. Jon’s necktie is a lovely dark red, stitched in a pattern that suggests the spines of books upon a shelf without trying to be clever about it. “Is it new?”

Jon looks faintly surprised. “Yes, actually. Thank you.”

Before Martin can say anything else, Tim swaggers up to them. “So, you survived your first performance review in one piece,” he remarks. 

“Just how many pieces were you expecting?” Jon asks, straight-faced. Martin can’t contain his grin.

“Good question. Depends on how much paperwork the boss would need to fill out afterward.”

“Yes, well. I think that Elias plans to keep me around for a little bit longer.” For the first time since Martin’s known him, Jon’s lips part in a smile, and of course it’s for Tim, who would never let on that he’s watched Jon closely enough to memorize his necktie collection.


	26. Martin, Jon, and interrupted questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orchis asked for Jon/Martin kissing "in the kitchen, missing each other." Warning for mildly dubious consent.

Martin has just finished brewing his tea when the sensation of being watched (one that’s never entirely absent inside the Magnus Institute) suddenly sharpens. He turns to find Jon standing in the entrance to the break room. He still looks tired and shabby, but it’s no longer obvious that he recently climbed out of a coffin.

Martin hesitates for a moment too long, because Jon takes the opportunity to ask, “Did you use the tape recorders to pull us from the Buried?”

The words, “Yeah, that was me,” flow from Martin’s mouth, and he scowls. “Don’t you think I would have answered on my own?”

“As a matter of fact, I'm not sure.”

_Then I’m doing something right._ “How’s Daisy?”

“I think she’ll recover. Basira hasn’t left her side.” Jon’s next words contain something almost like wonder. “Martin, however you came up with that solution, it was brilliant.”

There was a time, which seems both recent and distant, when Martin would have melted as soon as he heard those words from Jon. Now, he says, “Thank you for saying so,” as coolly as he knows how.

“I’ve tried to do what you asked.” Jon takes a step toward him. “What Lukas wants us to do. But I can’t keep playing his game.” His eyes gleam with hungry excitement. “Tell me–“

Martin has never moved so fast in his life, except perhaps when he was running from the Flesh creature. Before the compulsion can hit him, he closes Jon’s mouth with a kiss.

And at first, Jon kisses back, as if they’ve never been apart, as if they’ve done this every day for months or years. It’s Martin who backs away before he can lose himself in _what-if_ and _maybe-we-still-can_. “Don’t try to pull any more answers from me,” he gasps. “If you care about me, you’ll leave me alone.” There was _also_ a time when Martin wouldn’t have let anyone invade Jon’s space or speak to him that way.

Maybe Jon will hate him enough to keep his distance.


	27. Martin, Peter, and demonstrations of skill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everencore asked for a Martin/Peter kiss "in Peter's office for no reason at all (in the creepy way)." This scene is set during Season 4.

“All right, lad.” Peter steps back and folds his burly arms. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Martin closes his eyes, folds every memory of connection and desire for warmth into an untouchable corner of his mind, and _pushes_ the rest of the world away. He feels the caress of the fog before he sees it, softening the lines and colors of the office to an unfocused blur.

“Outstanding.” Peter is only slightly more distinct than their surroundings, but his smile is unmistakable. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody summon the Lonely this quickly without being born to it. Isn’t that a nice thing to hear?”

“Should it be?”

“Oh, you _are_ a natural.” Peter claps Martin on the shoulder. “You can drop us back into the physical world whenever you like. Unless you want to stay here forever.”

Martin isn’t sure whether he _does_ want that, but he’s starting to understand why someone would. 

“You know what to do. What – or whom – you need to think about.” Peter winks. “You needn’t worry that I’ll be jealous, now that you’ve come this far.” He captures Martin’s lips in a deep, firm kiss. It doesn’t feel much warmer than the fog. “I’ll see you there.”


	28. Jon, Elias, and unexplored power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everencore asked for an Elias/Jon kiss "on the sidewalk for power." Warning for Elias' disregard for physical boundaries.

Night has long since fallen, and the Institute has officially been closed for hours, when Jon follows Melanie to the door and onto the pavement. “What do you want?” she snaps.

He phrases his response carefully, trying to avoid accidental compulsion. “I was just wondering how you were…”

“I’ll feel a lot better when I don’t have to _look_ at this place.” She glares at something over his shoulder. “Or _anyone_ connected with it.”

Even before Jon glances back, he knows who has come up behind them. “Let her be, Jon,” Elias says, amusement simmering under his gentle tone. “There’s nothing that you can do for her right now. Perhaps she thinks that you’re waiting to push a few secrets into her head as soon as you find it convenient.”

Melanie has made her escape, such as it is. Jon knows that he should do the same – keep walking, or try to ignore that teasing voice until he can find a cab – but he’s sure that his next question will follow him wherever he goes: “I can’t do anything like that, can I?”

“I would be very surprised if you’d progressed to that point. Pleased beyond measure, but surprised nonetheless.” Elias is standing far too close, and the part of Jon that still cares about matters of reputation is glad that everyone else is gone for the night. “That doesn’t mean that you don’t have the power to make people _see_ hidden truths,” Elias whispers, gripping Jon’s shoulder and brushing the words against his ear. “Against an entity that wields illusions, such an ability could very well tip the scales in our favor.” The movement of his lips turns into the lightest of kisses. “_If_ you’re ready to harness it.”


	29. Martin, Jon, and solace under the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everencore asked for a Jon/Martin kiss "under the stars as a relief."

Martin breathes a sigh of relief when he steps outside to see a familiar figure standing just beyond the doorway, face turned toward the sky. Their safe house isn’t large, and when Martin woke up to find each room empty, he was overwhelmed with dread that Jon had been captured, or that he’d gone _hunting_, or something nearly as unspeakable…

“Stargazing?” Martin asks. It’s easy to forget, in the city, just how beautiful the expanse of sky can be (although the likes of Simon Fairchild could certainly find creative ways to remind anybody), when it’s unclouded by lights or fog and glittering with stars.

Jon accepts Martin’s one-armed embrace and kiss. “I needed a bit of air.”

“Were you dreaming?”

“The Buried…” Jon shakes his head. “I hope you never know what it’s like.”

He probably means it when he says _I hope you never know_, and Martin trusts that Jon won’t disappear when they pull apart, and they’re getting better. They have to be.


	30. Martin, Jon, and reclamation at the end of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet came from a conversation with Orchis about Jon's new scars after 160. Thanks for encouraging the angst, bb. <3

With unimaginable horrors around every corner, each moment of stillness is a gift. Martin takes advantage of those moments to hold Jon, whisper to him, and - when Jon wants it - to kiss him.

Sometimes their mouths meet, hard and desperate, but tonight Martin concentrates upon Jon’s scars. A tiny peck on each of the marks left by Prentiss’ hive, from what seems like a lifetime ago. A careful press of teeth on the smooth tissue that coats the palm of one hand. A slow, gentle trail along the marks on Jon’s throat, where he clawed at himself in an attempt to stop the flow of Jonah Magnus’ words.

Maybe if Martin does this enough (if they _survive_ long enough), he can overwrite those marks so that they, and their bearer, no longer belong to the Fears or to Jonah. He can try to create a living catalogue of his love.


End file.
